


Practicality

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers 2017 [9]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which Napoleon ponders over why Illya is still holding on to an old, tattered shirt.





	Practicality

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt 9 of Inktober for Writers: Strings; thanks to ksturf for plot help!

Napoleon was overjoyed when Illya had agreed to move in with him; their relationship had been a very fulfilling one so far, and with U.N.C.L.E. undergoing major budget cuts and several agents doubling up on lodgings, Napoleon figured that it would be the perfect cover and opportunity for them to do so.

It was to Napoleon’s surprise, however, that it took a grand total of five minutes for Illya to move his things into Napoleon’s apartment; the apartment had been pre-furnished, and Illya had been slowly bringing things in to Napoleon’s apartment more and more with each night he’d stayed; somehow, Napoleon had failed to notice—perhaps because Illya simply belonged there.

Nevertheless, Napoleon was left scratching his head as Illya merely dragged a tattered, yellow shirt in and announced that he was finished and could leave the keys to his old apartment in their landlady’s mailbox, providing they’d hidden Baba Yaga from her.

“Well, that didn’t take long at all—and I’d asked Mr. Waverly for the whole day off to help you move…”

“I am sure we can find practical uses for that time off,” Illya said, folding the shirt and putting it in his half of the chest of drawers.

“Yeah, like buying you some more good shirts,” Napoleon said, picking the yellow shirt back up. “Oh, Illya, look at this…!” He indicated the numerous strings and threads sticking out from the shirt. “How old is this shirt?”

Illya thought for a moment.

“Well, I got it while I was at Cambridge,” he said, at last. “So, seven years ago?”

“ _Seven_!?” Napoleon exclaimed. “Why have you been holding onto this for seven years!?”

“It still fits,” Illya said, shrugging. “Why discard it if it still fits?”

“Well, _look_ at it!”

“ _Da_ , it could use a little patching up. I can get some sewing supplies and do it.”

“…Or we can go to Macy’s and get you a new one,” Napoleon said. “…And I think that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

“Napoleon, there is no need--”

“Illya,” Napoleon said, looking at the chest of drawers and at the walk-in closet. “Exactly how many other beaten-up pieces of clothing are in your wardrobe?”

It soon became clear why Illya preferred wearing turtlenecks; aside from the suits he wore to work, the turtlenecks were the only casual clothes of his that were relatively new, and Illya sheepishly explained that he’d never really had a need for casual shirts since he’d had no reasons to go out casually in a place where a shirt would be more fitting.

And so, the next several hours were spent with Illya—and Napoleon taking him clothes shopping. It wasn’t an easy task, but Napoleon seemed to have a boundless patience as far as Illya was concerned and stuck to the task, even succeeding in keeping Illya’s spirits up. By the end of the day, Illya had a proper wardrobe, and, though embarrassed by Napoleon’s insistence, was grateful for it.

“Napoleon,” he said, that night as they settled into bed. “Thank you.”

“Hey, I was glad to do it,” Napoleon said, kissing him. “It’s like I told you—you deserve to have nice things.”

Illya just hugged him tightly.

“Right now, _Dorogoy_ , I feel as though I have the very best in the world.”

Napoleon smiled back at him.

“You know what? So do I.”


End file.
